Railroader, Cyborg, Soldier
by St. Louis Souls
Summary: WARNING: This story may contain: Angry Black Teenagers, Trains, and really Intense Hamming. Jackson Colt is on leave from Moscow


Chapter 1: Край (The Edge)

A chilly Pennsylvania morning. Just past 12:00. A nearly silent railyard sits in the early morning light, save for the lazy chirruping of crickets and the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. The near-silence is shattered by the sound of a roaring deisel locomotive as it trundles into the yard, blazing headlights shining like beacons. Powerful floodlights illuminate the seemingly endless miles of trackage as the yard slowly awakens. Streams of tanker trucks and muscle cars drive into the complex, rain shimmering off the glow of lights. One of the car's doors open, the black Dodge Challenger rumbling as it's engine shuts off. One man exits the vehicle, a dark-skinned, lean man wearing a faded, cyan hoodie and black jeans. This was Jackson Colt, an employee for America's International Rail, and an avid engineer, having worked for the company for 12 years. "Welp, it seems like I'm back to the daily grind." says Jack, exiting the vehicle and grabbing a black Missouri Central duffel bag out of the trunk. He walks across the sets of railroad tracks to a humming red and white EMD SD-60 and hops into the cab. "This is Troop Train 44, special delivery. Requesting clearance to depart." "Clearance granted. Where you're headed, I'd advise you to arm yourself, son." "Understood." Jackson exits the cab of the lead engine, walking back to the second to last freight car and opens the door. "Nope...almost there...got it!" says Jackson as he pulls out a set of black Gauntlets from the crate. "Tune UP!" (ACCESS GRANTED...) The gauntlets begin to shimmer faintly, then emit a high-pitched whine as chain mail-like segments of metal criss-cross Jack's body, hardening into an impenetrable, blast-proof suit of armor. "Armory: Plasma Weaponry. Standard issue Uni-sabre." Finally, a reflective helmet descended onto his head, completing the Kronos suit.

As the sun crests the nearby mountains, the train approaches the Eagle's Crest tunnel and starts to slow from the weight of the 12 boxcars' contents. "C'mon! Don't fail me now!" Jack yells at the straining locomotive, sweat beading down his face. Suddenly, a great shove sends the train rushing forward, and Jack sees, or thinks he sees, the ghost of his father's famed engine, 4-8-2 "Ole' 2699" pushing his train out of the tunnel, and looks back. "GO!" the engine shrieks, before fading away in a spectacular cloud of steam and coal. "Thanks, Pops." His train blasts out of the tunnel in a cloud of steam, now a powerful, gleaming red 2-8-8-2. Jack throws the train into reverse, sparks flying as the wheels catch on the flanges. "Whoa!" The train hisses to a stop mere centimeters from a towering oak, steam billowing from the cylinder cocks as pressure is released.

At once, the forest goes eerily quiet, as if it were waiting for something. "This doesn't feel right..." says Jack, sliding his M-60 out of hammerspace and loading a fresh ammo box. As he turns back to the locomotive, one of the Mars lights swivels over to a nearby bone tree, flashes twice, and shuts off. "I see her...". (KA-CLICK) "COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP, OR I WILL BE FORCED TO SHOOT YOU!". As soon as these words left his mouth, a deep, droning sound, like the engine of an airplane filled his ears and he blacked out for a split second. "Blink." The forest started to get cold. REALLY cold. "Damn it." (SWOOOO...CRACKLE.) ".3.2.1. I'm going insane." He blinked, and he found himself face to face with himself. "GET IT TOGETHER,MAN! AIN'T NO TIME FOR THIS DRUGGED-UP, LSD BULLSHIT!" Right hook. He was on his back, pinned against his locomotive by daggers of ice. He struggled to move, but found that if he did, the daggers cut into his skin. "Aargh! Carefully now..." His body melts the ice daggers down to their most basic form, and he walks out in a cloud of steam, heading towards the cluster of buildings in the distance.

Sticking close to the edge to the buildings, Jackie cloaks, drawing his revolver from a pouch on his back.


End file.
